by Eliza Green
Bill sped up on the downhill section. Then the alien disappeared from sight.
‘Shit.’
Caldwell arrived at his shoulder. ‘It’s up ahead. I can catch it.’
Having his officer there angered Bill. ‘Follow me if you have to, but I take the lead on this, got it?’
Caldwell mock saluted.
Bill searched for the Indigene again. ‘Can you see it?’
Caldwell pointed to a group of people outside the station who were looking irritated. ‘There.’
Bill raced ahead to the entrance where alarms shrilled and people yelled. He pushed through the crowds and made it inside the station. Ahead of him he saw his target heading for the stairs that would lead him down.
A queue had formed at the gate. Bill flashed his ITF badge and leapt over the turnstile. He kept running, despite his chest feeling like it might burst open.
Breathless and desperate for a break, he kept going. The stairs led him to an almost-empty platform. A train had just passed and the passengers were heading up and out. The Indigene hesitated at the edge of the platform.
He caught up to the alien just as he leapt off the end. Bill did the same, landing awkwardly on the rail.
He shouted, ‘Wait!’
The Indigene turned, as shocked by his presence as Bill was to see him up close.
Strange brown eyes stared at him. Bill lost his voice for a moment.
He managed, ‘I just want to talk.’
His target said nothing and did nothing. Then he turned and ran.
‘Son of a bitch...’
Bill set off after him, barely seeing where his foot landed in the dark underground tunnel. Up ahead a bright light dazzled him, followed by a loud humming noise. Bill squealed and jumped into a worker’s alcove. The train whizzed past him, stopping at the station he’d just left.
His heart was firmly in his mouth now, but his adrenaline kept his mind on the task. Bill stepped out of the alcove and resumed his pursuit of the Indigene. He arrived at a split in the tunnel, unsure as to which way the alien had gone.
Bill looked down the new track that was plunged into darkness, seeing nothing.
16
Stephen couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. The news of what the Surface Creatures were had thrown him for a loop. He’d allowed one of the military to catch up with him. Worse, they’d found part of his way in and out of the city.
The man with salt and pepper hair stood on the empty track.
‘Wait! I just want to talk.’
Stephen froze. The man had his hands outstretched, but Stephen sensed anger and desperation rolling off him. The air filtration device pulled at his lungs uncomfortably. He had to go. Yet, his legs wouldn’t move. He’d never been this close to an adult before. And this human looked familiar.
It clicked into place. He’d seen this man before, from Anton’s restaurant recording. That couldn’t be a coincidence. How long had he been tracking him?
His breaths shortened until they became painful. He had to go.
Stephen turned and ran into the tunnels. The military man might know one way of how he surfaced inside the city, but he would never find the entrance to the district.
He heard the man curse, his breaths shortening as he followed him. Up ahead a train approached. Stephen applied more power to his legs to reach the split in the tunnel before the train did. The air kicked up with the arrival of the train. Stephen darted down the left tunnel. Behind him he heard another curse.
Stephen ran for two miles in the dark, stopping finally at a wall. Markers identified the entrance to the way home, visible only to those with superior sight. He felt around for the opening he couldn’t see with the stupid brown lenses in his eyes.
There.
He squeezed through one of many narrow entry points the Indigenes had created across the railway network. He popped both lenses out and placed them in his pocket.
That’s better.
The way home took on a sharper look. The subtle markers popped in the series of linked passageways that would lead him to his district. False walls slid back and closed behind him. His chest tightened in the low oxygen and pitch-black environment where only small insects survived. But at least the military man hadn’t seen his route inside.
Pain in his lungs forced Stephen to slow down. He stumbled along the narrow passageway while the time on his device blinked red. Anton’s warnings had not been for nothing, and he’d spent too long talking to the boy. If Stephen didn’t hurry, he would suffocate.
Stumbling over familiar terrain, his breaths shortened to a fine painful point. New markers appeared and he took left and right turns. False doors closed behind him to hide his route. He wasn’t far now, but it might as well have been miles away.
The device continued to blink red—a reminder of his poor judgment.
He dropped to his knees in relief when the door to the sealed district came into view, and scrabbled the last few feet. Recognition software scanned his genetic code and authorised his entry. The door slid back into the rock face. He crawled inside a vestibule.
The outer door sealed shut; a smaller one leading into the inner sanctum remained closed. He willed the whirring air pumps to work faster and clear the contaminated air. Out of air, Stephen slumped on the floor. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.
The inner door released suddenly and one last effort pushed him over the threshold. Strong arms dragged him inside.
What did I tell you about the time limit? I was about to go after you.
It was Anton. He sounded mad. His friend pulled the air filtration pieces out of Stephen’s throat and nose. Stephen snatched at new air and it eased the pain.
Anton got him to his feet. I’m taking you to the infirmary.
No, I need to see Pierre and Elise.
Why, what’s wrong?
He stared at his friend. Everything.
17
‘Jenny!’
Stuart’s loud voice carried across the observation deck.
Standing at the entrance with her bag on one shoulder, she ignored her friend and looked around the room. Several domed sections made of high-density glass formed the roofline, giving the Air and Space Traffic Control Observation Deck the best three-sixty views of the city. What a view that must have been in the old days. But all Jenny saw was a broken city that went on for miles, choked by low-lying black and grey clouds.
Wall panels containing computer visualisation screens each displayed different images: space debris, planets in the solar system, and the area immediately above Earth. All facilitated by satellites orbiting the Earth. The almost-imperceptible beeps of fingers gliding over monitors at workstations filled the room. Three of Stuart’s team stood in front of the visualisation screens, traversing the entire galaxy with a flick of their wrists. One flustered young man checked the outlying areas of space where the passenger ships could run into debris. The trainee, Jenny assumed. An older woman monitored his work.
Not closely enough, it would seem.
Stuart walked over to her. ‘I was calling you just now.’
She blinked. ‘I didn’t hear you.’
Stuart steered her towards his office with a view overlooking the deck. ‘How was your flight?’
‘Fine.’
He went ahead and opened the door. The room had a desk and two chairs, and barely enough room to stand. She squeezed in beside the desk and folded her arms. Stuart shuffled to his chair and sat down. He gestured for her to do the same.
‘I’m not staying.’
Stuart stood up. ‘Something wrong?’
‘What the hell were you thinking, putting a kid on my schedule?’
He frowned. ‘You made it, didn’t you?’
‘Ten minutes late.’
He winced. ‘I’m sorry, Jenny. Galen, he’s... conscientious. But a good worker. I think he’ll do well here.’ Jenny’s foot tapped out a rhythm on the floor. ‘But that’s no excuse and I shouldn’t have delayed
you. What’s the big deal anyway? You’ve been late before.’
She uncrossed her arms. ‘I got a memo from Gilchrist’s office. I’m under review again.’
Stuart’s eyes widened. ‘Again?’
She hadn’t told him about the first review. ‘Yeah, last month it was an issue with my uniform. This month they are reviewing my “piloting skills”.’ She air quoted the words and sighed. ‘It’s all bull. I know what they’re trying to do.’
He walked around to her side. ‘Come on, it’s not that bad. They’re just crunching numbers. It doesn’t mean they’re trying to get rid of you.’
She hadn’t told him everything. ‘I have a meeting with someone from Gilchrist’s office now.’
Stuart actually flinched. That didn’t settle her nerves one bit. ‘I’ll talk to them, explain the time infraction was my fault.’
‘No need. The attendant overlooked it. I’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t want to mess up your clean streak.’ The HJA docking station, under Stuart’s direction for the last ten years, had an infraction-free sheet. She guessed her friend wanted to keep it that way.
That appeared to relax Stuart. ‘Lunch after?’
‘We’ll see.’ She pulled her DPad out of her bag and read the memo again. ‘Now, where can I find room 15?’
☼
Jenny followed Stuart’s instructions down two flights of stairs into a basement and along a corridor that smelled of damp. She stopped outside an unremarkable door with the number fifteen printed on the outside. The light overhead flickered off, then on.
Who in their right mind came down here?
She knocked on the door and heard a faint ‘Enter.’ She opened it to see a familiar young man wearing the grey uniform of the Earth Security Centre.
He proffered his hand, but the shake in it told her he was nervous. ‘Tim, from Gilchrist’s office. Nice to see you again.’
Gilchrist’s assistant. The one she’d done the fashion show for. She shook it and sat down.
The man no older than twenty five sat opposite her, his lips drawn thin and white. His eyes were focused on a DPad in front of him.
‘Jenny Waterson?’ He glanced at her and she nodded. ‘Please state your credentials.’
‘Captain. Grade Four.’
Tim looked between the pad and her. ‘And how long have you been at that grade?’
‘A year.’ She twisted her hands together on her lap. ‘Is there a problem?’
His fingers glided over the DPad as though he were rearranging data. ‘No, just updating the details on here.’
‘Am I your first meeting today?’
Gilchrist’s assistant glanced up at her and smiled nervously. That made her nervous. ‘No. I’ve seen seven other pilots before you.’
She couldn’t stand not knowing. ‘Please, what is the purpose of this review? Have I done something wrong?’
He put the DPad down and clasped his hands together on the table. ‘Ms Gilchrist is asking me to speak with all the grade four pilots. She wants an assessment of skills, to ensure our pilots are fit to fly.’
Or not fit, and cleared to be fired.
She gestured to the idle DPad in front of Tim. ‘If you look at my history you’ll see I have an exemplary record.’
Tim’s mouth thinned. ‘Yes, until today.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You were late.’
‘I was not.’ The attendant had told her he wouldn’t record her infraction.
‘Except that you were. The attendant confirmed it in a report to me.’
That lying... ‘Why would he?’ She blinked once. ‘What did he say?’
‘That you missed your scheduled drop by ten minutes.’
She peered at the blackened screen of the DPad, wondering if she should take Stuart up on his offer to explain. ‘Did he also tell you it wasn’t my fault?’
The DPad sprang into life and Tim shielded the screen from her. ‘Oh, how so?’
His finger was poised, ready to record her answer probably.
Stuart had delayed her, or rather his trainee had. But trainee or not, Stuart had been in charge. ‘There was a storm. It knocked me off course. The craft battled to regain course for a few minutes.’
That’s when she saw the red light, indicating Tim was recording their session.
‘For the record you were late, and you lied about it?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Except she had. Jenny huffed. ‘Look, it was one time. It won’t happen again.’
Tim leaned forward, nerves forgotten, as he settled into his role. He had Jenny on the back foot, and that would look good when Gilchrist reviewed the data.
‘Ms Waterson, I didn’t ask you here to frighten you.’
She suppressed a laugh that any twenty something could frighten her. But these days, they held more power than she did.
‘So why am I here? Is this a warning?’
‘Yes. I’m meeting with all the grade four pilots, as mentioned. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but we’ve noticed that efficiency levels drop when pilots reach a certain age.’
How else was she supposed to take it? ‘There’s nothing wrong with my skills. As I said before, I had a good reason for being late.’
‘Yes, but you also made a judgment call to keep the craft in autopilot rather than take control and make up for lost time.’
She laughed once. ‘You weren’t up there. The winds were violent. It was safer to keep the autopilot on.’
Gilchrist’s assistant nodded, but kept his expression neutral. People who sat on the fence, who refused to use common sense, irritated Jenny.
He said, ‘Sure, but it still doesn’t change the fact you were late.’
She had no comeback.
Jenny slumped back in her chair. ‘What now?’
Tim hit something on his DPad. ‘Now, I record it. Ms Gilchrist doesn’t like infractions.’ He stood up. ‘Consider this your first warning. Make sure this doesn’t happen again.’
18
Laura spent the afternoon sorting through a snapshot of the world’s most boring crime: tax evasion. With another thirteen hours left of her shift, she didn’t see how she’d get through the steady stream of documentation hitting her monitor.
Spread the work out, take regular breaks from the screen.
Her mantra worked most days, even when the light-starved office triggered a bout of depression that a shot of vitamin D couldn’t fix.
Before his death, her father had suffered from regular depression, but Laura’s own was triggered by seasonal changes. With a never-changing season, her darker thoughts often spoiled her happier ones. Most times the vitamin D shot worked to keep her thoughts on track. While she had never considered ending her life, the termination rooms provided by the World Government gave an easy out to a population that could live to one hundred and sixty.
After legalising what had once been a criminal practice, termination rooms could now be found everywhere. Her great-grandfather had used one and Laura and her mother had been with him at the end. Her father hadn’t been well enough able to face it. While it wasn’t a bad way to end life, surrounded by loved ones, Laura wasn’t ready to check out just yet.
Those had been better times when she and her mother used to have actual conversations. Her father’s suicide a few years later had turned her mother into a recluse—not to mention a handful.
Laura blamed herself for her father’s death. And her mother? She blamed Laura for it too. She’d thought about talking it over with someone, but Chris and Janine were the only friends she had. They were not people she trusted with her weaknesses.
She shook the negative thoughts from her mind and stood up from her workstation. Feeling stiff and like she needed to move, she walked a few laps of the room. After, she stopped at Janine’s workstation, her cheeks flushed.
‘Having fun, are we?’ Janine wore a strange expression; something split between humour and jealousy.
‘If I don’t move, I won’t mak
e it to the end of my shift.’
‘Just take another Actigen then.’
‘Can’t. I’m at my limit of four this week. Plus, they aren’t working anymore.’
‘Look, I’ve got work to do and you’re disturbing me,’ said Janine.
‘And there it is,’ said Chris, with one eye on Laura.
‘What?’ snapped Janine.
‘The inner bitch.’
‘Piss off, Chris.’
‘I’ve made my point and you’ve just proven it. So what if she’s exercising? I for one am enjoying the distraction.’
‘You just want to get into her pants,’ said Janine.
‘So? What man wouldn’t?’
Laura blushed. ‘Stop talking about me like I’m not here. And Chris, watch your mouth.’
Chris sounded offended. ‘Fine. Sit down then and stop wiggling your hips.’
‘I need to clear my head first. I’ll feel better in a moment.’
‘You’re wasting your time, you know,’ said Chris. ‘You’ll only feel worse, especially with Actigen in your system.’
‘Exercise helps me in other ways.’ She wanted to explain about her Seasonal Affective Disorder, how distractions helped with the lack of control. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
Chris wiggled his eyebrows. ‘Besides there’s only one type of exercise I like to do.’
Janine pulled a face. ‘Oh, keep your thoughts to yourself, for once. Please.’
Keen to move the focus away from her, Laura said, ‘Chris, any word from your friend on the lottery’s next hit after Perth?’
‘You’re not going to like it. Melbourne next, then Europe.’
‘Europe? Shit.’ She thought they’d circle back and hit Sydney again.
‘Why do you want to go so badly anyway?’ Janine’s gaze narrowed.
‘I don’t,’ Laura replied too fast. ‘I’m just interested, that’s all.’
‘Well, seems to me like it’s more than that. What does your family think about it?’
Her pulse raced as they inched closer to the topic of her dysfunctional family. ‘My mother will probably end up coming with me.’